


Unclench (Unlearn)

by HashtagLEH



Series: Something Like a Family [11]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Billy Hargrove & Maxine "Max" Mayfield Have a Good Relationship, Billy Hargrove Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove Needs Love, Billy Hargrove Needs a Hug, Billy has been doing all the adopting, Canonical Child Abuse, Child Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gay Billy Hargrove, Gen, Good Parent Jim "Chief" Hopper, Homophobic Language, Hurt Billy Hargrove, Neil Hargrove is His Own Warning, Panic Attacks, Parental Jim "Chief" Hopper, Pre-Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Protective Jim "Chief" Hopper, he gets a metaphorical one, well now it's HIS turn to be adopted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:14:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29422884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HashtagLEH/pseuds/HashtagLEH
Summary: It hadn’t been a good morning. The day after Christmas, Billy woke up very aware of the date. He had taken Max to the arcade as soon as she was ready to go, right after breakfast before Neil could make his appearance. It was something he’d always done in past years, getting Max out of the house for the day because he could never be certain what Neil would do in his state of mind.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Jim "Chief" Hopper, Billy Hargrove & Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Billy Hargrove & Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove & The Party, Eleven | Jane Hopper & Billy Hargrove
Series: Something Like a Family [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009263
Comments: 30
Kudos: 105





	Unclench (Unlearn)

**Author's Note:**

> I remembered (read: was reminded) after posting the last installment that I had meant to write a section to explain Billy's birthday, and cross over to make him 17 before the end of the year. So, here it is in this one! I know the consensus is that he was 18 by July 4, 1985, but it also doesn't give anything more than 1967 as the year of his birthday, so I'm stretching the truth a little bit lol.
> 
> Possible warning for description of a dislocated wrist being reset.
> 
> I got so many feels writing this. I hope you like it! :)

“Billy, will you take me to the arcade?”

Billy looked up from his book, seeing Max standing in his doorway looking at him expectantly.

“You were at the arcade for six hours yesterday,” he raised an eyebrow at her, before flicking his gaze back to the words in front of him. The Uruks were ambushing the fellowship, and he’d read it dozens of times already but this was all he wanted to do with his day. He didn’t want to go carting Max around or seeing any of the rest of the nerd squad. Even Neil and Susan were gone for the day, going to some hot springs or some shit – he didn’t know, he hadn’t been paying attention. He just knew that he and Max were alone for the day.

“Bill- _y_ ,” Max whined, and a moment later her body was flopping over his legs, and he let out a quiet “oof” at the force of it. “I got ten dollars from Grandma for Christmas – I want to spend it!”

“What’s wrong with waiting until _after_ Christmas?” Billy sighed, keeping his book in his face despite the fact that he knew there was no escaping the redhead at this point.

“Because everyone _else_ will be doing the same thing!” Max protested, and pushed herself further into him, like she was trying to make herself go heavier through will alone. Billy refrained from telling her that the laws of physics didn’t work like that. “It’s only noon and I’m _bored_. Pleeeease?”

Billy sighed and shoved her off of him. With a yelp, she fell to the floor, but he ignored it while he closed his book. “ _Fine_ ,” he sighed. “If only to get you out of my hair.”

“Yay!” Max cheered, jumping to her feet and immediately forgetting the affront of being shoved to the floor in favor of being happy her request was being granted. “I’ll get my shoes!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled while she ran from the room, and got up to put on some jeans and his boots. He hadn’t planned on going anywhere that day, so he was wearing sweat pants and a tee shirt, but if anyone saw him at least his hair was done. He gave it a once-over to be sure it still looked good, and only had to fix a couple of curls in the back before he was satisfied with his appearance. His shirt was an old band tee, but it looked fine once he pulled on his usual leather jacket.

Max was waiting for him surprisingly patiently when he got to the front room, and he squinted at her suspiciously, because she was _never_ patient.

“ _Finally_ ,” she said when she saw him. There it was, and Billy relaxed a little as she went back to her normal self, pulling the front door closed behind him as they went to his Camaro.

It was only as he pulled into the suspiciously empty parking lot of the arcade that a thought suddenly occurred to him, and he almost slammed on his breaks before he remembered the ice and pulled into the nearest parking spot instead, before squinting suspiciously over at Max.

“It’s Sunday,” he reminded her. “The arcade’s not even open today.”

Max looked caught, clearly not having remembered to consider this in her little plan for the day, and her eyes darted from Billy to the arcade and back.

“Okay, so the diner is just across the street, and I wanted to go there,” Max told him, and now that he _knew_ something was up, he inspected her more closely than he had done before, and this time he was _pretty_ sure she was telling the truth.

Still though, that didn’t answer – “Why do you want to go to the diner?”

“Lunch?” Max offered weakly, and at his glare she smacked him in the arm. “Oh my God, Billy, just go with it! Let’s go to the diner.”

“You want _me_ to go to the diner,” Billy repeated, finally beginning to understand why she was being so squirrelly. He couldn’t bring up any special annoyance though, because she was trying, and she wasn’t outright saying it – but still he didn’t want to play along.

“I have ten dollars!” she declared. “We can get malts – or hot chocolate!”

“Max,” he told her seriously. “I don’t want you to waste your Christmas money on something for my birthday.”

Max scowled immediately. “But Billy, you’re seventeen now; it’s something to be celebrated!”

“I haven’t celebrated my birthday since I was eleven,” he reminded her.

“Well, I didn’t know you until you were twelve,” she said staunchly. “Look, just…don’t think of it as a birthday celebration. It’s just food, and I’m your annoying little sister who has decided to pay for you out of the goodness of her heart.”

Billy exhaled, before he put the car into reverse and backed out of the spot again. Sometimes Max got something into her head and it was impossible not to go along with it – he could see that this was going to be one of those times. He figured he could humor her, and get a drink or something and they could head back home within the hour.

When he pulled into the parking lot across the street though, he saw a very familiar car parked near the doors, and several familiar faces through the window of the diner. He gave Max another look, one that was very annoyed but also very resigned.

“You invited the monster squad,” he said flatly.

Max grinned. “And Steve!” she confirmed joyfully and completely unrepentantly, even as she shoved her door open and stomped up to the door. With a weary sigh, Billy turned off the car and followed after her.

He was a little surprised by the immediate greeting when he entered the diner, empty save for their little group, and realized they were greeting Max _and_ him. He was also surprised to see El sitting at the table next to Mike, smiling happily at him too. She was wearing the red coat she’d gotten last month and a matching headband.

“Happy birthday!” Dustin said with a toothy grin as Billy settled reluctantly into the chair between Max and Steve.

Immediately Lucas was whirling beside him and smacking him in the arm. “You weren’t supposed to say anything, dumbass!” he scolded.

Dustin rubbed his arm with a confused, though still indignant expression. “But he knows now – the surprise is over!”

“He wasn’t supposed to know this was about his birthday at _all_!” Lucas hissed, darting a glance over at Billy before returning his glare back to Dustin.

“It’s fine – I kind of spilled the beans accidentally already,” Max said a little guiltily. “But now we’re not talking about it!” she said quickly at Billy’s flat glare. “This is just an accidental meeting at lunchtime on a Sunday.” She nodded very firmly, daring anyone to disagree with her. Wisely, no one did – not even El, though she did look amused by the other girl.

“Well, I brought you an early Christmas gift,” Steve told him with a cheeky little smile that Billy was hard-pressed to argue against. “But I also have a second Christmas gift for you for _on_ Christmas.”

“Who the hell gives people two gifts for the same holiday,” Billy said flatly, because he could play along to lunch but accepting birthday gifts was going too far.

It was Will who piped up before anyone else could speak though, saying solemnly, “ _Rich_ people.”

The seriousness but also slight mocking tone in which he said it caused Billy to immediately start laughing, because he hadn’t expected such a response out of the little Byers.

“Alright, fine,” Billy accepted after the others had stopped chuckling. “But none of you other shits better have gotten me anything for today.”

He realized that his words were for naught when each of them somehow casually managed to gift him small little trinkets throughout the meal – or at least it was casual to _them_. Billy thought it was completely obvious the way Dustin gave him an “extra” bottle of hairspray his mom had bought, which was the same Farrah Fawcett spray that he now knew he used; or the way Lucas said his little sister had bought earrings but his mom said they were “too mature” for her age so he gave them to Billy as the only other person he knew with pierced ears; or the way Will said that Jonathan had gotten him a new tape because he’d forgotten that Will already had this one, and maybe Billy would want it? Even Mike got in on being a little shit when he gave him a folding knife for his keychain, saying that he’d just gotten a new one and didn’t want this one anymore. El gave him a lumpy, misshapen scarf, not even trying to hide the fact that it was a birthday present when she explained that she was learning to knit and she wanted him to have her first creation. ~~That one might have actually been his favorite gift.~~

Steve gave him a box that was actually wrapped in red paper, but at least it didn’t have the words “Happy Birthday” plastered all over it. Billy told him that seeing as it was a Christmas gift, he would have to wait two more days before he could open it, and refused to budge on it.

“But aren’t you the least bit curious what it _is_?” Steve said innocently.

Steve made an excellent point, Billy decided, capitulating immediately. He tore open the paper and stared down in a little bit of confusion at the Walkman.

“It’s so that you don’t have to make anyone else suffer with your shitty music choices,” Steve said with faux seriousness, and Billy instantly shoved him in the side, because their music tastes were an ongoing argument that both of them refused to budge in their stances of.

As they were leaving later, almost two hours after they had shown up at the diner, Steve and Billy stepped outside, leaving the kids to their usual shouting at each other like little gremlins as they made their goodbyes. Billy lit up a cigarette, automatically passing it to Harrington after a couple of puffs.

“So…” Steve exhaled in a cloud of smoke and fogged breath. Billy waited, knowing instinctively what was coming and knowing there was no way to stop it. “Feel free not to answer if you don’t want to. But – why don’t you like to celebrate your birthday?”

Billy accepted the cigarette back, cold fingers brushing Harrington’s own on the pass. He took a moment to take another puff from it, and exhaled before he answered. “My mom left three days after I turned eleven,” he said casually, like it didn’t matter, when it really, really did. “Always felt like it was supposed to be a really shitty gift – birthday and Christmas all rolled into one.”

“Shit, Billy,” Steve breathed. “That fucking sucks, man.”

Billy shrugged, inhaled around the cigarette again before passing it over. “I’m not the only one who’s lost a parent or dealt with my parents’ shitty divorce.”

“That doesn’t make it any less fucked up,” Steve argued. Billy shrugged again, because there was nothing he could do about the situation.

“I got Max out of it, at least,” he said without thinking, and then when he realized what he’d said he turned an immediate glare on Harrington. “Don’t you _dare_ tell anyone I said that.”

Steve looked far too amused by his defensiveness. “No worries, tough guy, my lips are sealed,” he promised. He actually zipped his fingers across his lips and then pretended to throw away the key, like a huge dork.

“So I thought you were already seventeen,” Steve said conversationally, kicking absently at a piece of ice on the sidewalk. “How is it that you’re a senior?”

“California schools are different,” Billy said with a shrug. “Technically the cutoff for when you had to turn five was Thanksgiving, but my old man didn’t want to put up with me around the house for another year, and he argued that it was only a month anyway so I started kindergarten when I was four.”

“Well, that was shitty of him, too,” Steve grumbled, rubbing his cold-reddened nose. Billy didn’t say anything, because he was well used to it by now and it didn’t really matter much to him. He’d always kept up with the other kids just fine, as Neil had expected of him, even surpassing several of them. ~~Also, if he’d been a junior he wouldn’t have _any_ classes with Harrington and that would suck.~~

They were both startled by the sound of the horn on the BMW blaring at them, and they swung their heads over to see Dustin in the front seat, leaning over to honk repeatedly on the horn. The other boys were in the back seat, while El had joined Max in the Camaro – apparently he would be the one driving her home.

“C’mon, lovebirds!” Dustin called out teasingly, only heard because his door was still open. “We’re waiting!”

Billy glared, because actually he and Steve had been waiting for the little shits, and _they’d_ actually been _patient_ about it. Despite the fact that he hadn’t been keeping track of their movements, he had no doubt that they had only _just_ gotten in the car.

Dustin just gave them a shit-eating grin, and Steve rolled his eyes before looking back at Billy. “That’s my cue,” he said longsufferingly, but with unmistakable fondness. “I’ll see you at the New Year’s party, yeah?”

“New Year’s party?” Billy repeated, because he hadn’t heard anything about a party.

“Yeah – at the Byers’,” Steve said. “Max should know the details.”

“Sure,” Billy agreed, remembering Steve saying something during lunch about some trip his parents expected him to leave for later that night with them, and how he wouldn’t be back until the day of New Year’s Eve. The break was going to suck, honestly.

Dustin honked on the horn again, and Steve and Billy both automatically lifted their hands to flip him off as one. Steve rolled his eyes at the hysterical laughing coming from his car.

“See you,” he bade farewell, and Billy shook his head to hide his amusement and went to his own car.

“So…” Max drawled as soon as they had dropped off El back at the cabin. “What’d you and Steve talk about? You looked pretty _cozy_.”

Billy jerked the wheel, just slightly, just enough to cause the car to slide a little in the ice and make Max yelp in shock at the unexpected movement. It didn’t deter her though, as once they were driving smoothly again she just grinned at him knowingly.

He shoved a hand lightly against the side of her head. “I will smother you in your sleep,” he threatened. Max just laughed at him.

Billy felt warm for the rest of the day.

***

Billy spun with the force of the backhand, smacking into the wall and grabbing it instinctively before he could fall over completely.

It hadn’t been a good morning. The day after Christmas, Billy woke up very aware of the date. He had taken Max to the arcade as soon as she was ready to go, right after breakfast before Neil could make his appearance. It was something he’d always done in past years, getting Max out of the house for the day because he could never be certain what Neil would do in his state of mind.

Usually, Billy and Neil both kept to themselves throughout the day. Neither wanted to be reminded of the other, whether because it reminded them of Beth or because they blamed the other – or in Billy’s case, because he didn’t want to set him off with _anything_ , so making himself scarce was his normal go-to.

The problem was, there was literally _nothing_ for him to do in Hawkins. He couldn’t even take a walk, because it was the middle of winter and he didn’t want to freeze his balls off by staying out all day. So, he stayed in his room.

But then he’d gone to the kitchen to grab some food and disappear again – like an _idiot_ , because Neil was hanging around the house too, and Billy was just headed back to his room when he crossed paths with the older man, and he was just a _little_ too snappish because his emotions were already feeling raw, and Neil had lashed out.

Now, Neil was yelling at him about respect, grabbing Billy’s wrist and slamming it into the wall when Billy stupidly put his hand up like it would block any further strikes. Billy heard the _pop_ , felt it a moment later, and choked out a pained whine through his teeth, going limp like submission would calm Neil’s ire.

“I wish you didn’t make me have to do this, Billy,” Neil said, a mockery of concern as he pulled back, releasing his hold on his son. “But you need to _learn_.”

“Yes, Sir,” Billy said immediately, wanting to just get away as soon as possible, doing anything he could to appease the man as quickly as he was able. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

Moments later, Billy had grabbed his jacket with his keys from his bedroom, bare feet shoved into his shoes because his wrist was bent at a funny angle and he couldn’t get a grip on his socks. He didn’t bother tying them, just walking right past Neil fixing himself lunch in the kitchen and out the door.

It took some fumbling to get his Camaro unlocked, but as soon as he was able to sit down and pull the door closed behind him, he braced his hand against the dash, taking a breath before he forced his wrist back into its socket. He groaned out a breath in pain, knew he would have to wrap it later, but for now he was just glad it hadn’t been left that way too long to become worse.

He peeled out of the driveway, driving with his uninjured hand on the wheel and fighting against the furious, hurt tears trying to spill from his eyes. He didn’t know where to go – didn’t have anywhere _to_ go. Steve was out of town, the kids were…not an option. He didn’t want them finding out about his dad, especially in so public a place as the arcade.

Then he remembered – El knew. She’d known from the beginning, without him ever having to tell her, and she understood because she’d been in something similar. And he didn’t really want to go commiserate about shitty dads – he would rather just forget it for a little while – but she was the only one who wouldn’t be shocked by his appearance, would let him get distracted by her movies or reading or knitting instead.

So he made the drive to the cabin, wanting to see his pseudo-sister and have something approaching normality more than he wanted ibuprofen or ice for the swelling in his wrist. He had a single-minded focus to get inside, so much so that he didn’t even notice the police Blazer sitting parked at the side of the house.

He’d honestly forgotten about Hopper or the fact that he lived there with El, because he was at work so much that it wasn’t really a concern, and it was the middle of the day so he wouldn’t have to think about that –

But then Hopper answered the door, and Billy immediately wanted to slap the other side of his face for being so stupid as to forget the other man’s presence.

“Jesus, kid, what the hell happened to you?” Hopper said, taking in the bruise blossoming on his cheek even as he stepped back in wordless invitation for Billy to enter.

Billy stayed on the porch though, because usually El answered the door and he didn’t know why she wouldn’t have sensed him coming with her powers or something and come out from her room.

“Is El here?” Billy said, voice coming out more tired than he’d intended.

He hadn’t honestly expected a denial, because El was _always_ at the cabin, so his heart sank when Hopper shook his head. “No, she’s at the arcade with the kids – Joyce said I should try loosening the reins a little so she’s there for the afternoon.”

Billy nodded once, trying not to let the disappointment show on his face. “Thanks, Chief,” he said shortly, and turned to leave.

Hopper stopped him though with a hand on his shoulder – not heavy, like Neil would grab him, and not gentle like he was glass that might break, but companionable and without expectation. It still made Billy tense, because he really didn’t know the man that well –

But Hopper released him a moment later, the hand only a brief touch to get his attention, and he said, “Why don’t you come on in, anyway? I’m making grilled cheeses for lunch.”

Billy looked back at him, a little wary. “That’s alright, I should get going anyway.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Hopper returned, not unkindly. “C’mon. You’re letting the cold air in.”

Then, without waiting for a response, he turned and meandered back into the cabin, going toward the kitchen and leaving Billy standing there on the porch, door wide open.

Billy could leave. Hopper wasn’t looking at him, wouldn’t know that he’d left until he heard the Camaro roaring away. Billy could go to the next town over, get some alcohol and drink the day away instead, alone and waiting for Neil to pass out so that he could sneak in through his window and wake up to a new day.

Billy walked inside.

***

Hopper didn’t ask about the bruise on his face, or the way Billy didn’t use his left hand, keeping it carefully immobile, but Billy knew that he’d noticed by the way his eyes occasionally flicked over them and then the rest of his body, like he was looking for other invisible hurts. Billy was too on edge to be grateful, expecting the questions to come at any moment as he dipped his grilled cheese in canned tomato soup from his seat across from Hopper at the table. Hopper made three sandwiches for himself, and one for Billy, and then another when Billy finished the first one.

Hopper wasn’t silent, but he wasn’t chatty, either. He made comments about the kids, about his work, about a story he’d heard from Flo, his receptionist at the station. He didn’t expect Billy to reply either, which was good because Billy didn’t know how he was expected to act here, what persona he needed to apply in this new situation.

“Have you taken any ibuprofen yet?” Hopper asked him as he put the dishes in the sink to wash later.

“Didn’t have time,” Billy said, kicking himself for not answering with a simple “no”. He braced himself for the pity, for the understanding and gentle – _too_ gentle – questions that would lead around to him saying he needed to get out of that home, that he should file a report with the police.

But Hopper didn’t say anything about it, only disappearing into the bathroom for a moment before coming back to put three pills on the table by Billy’s elbow.

“I have bandages if you need to wrap anything,” Hopper said like this was normal, like it didn’t matter as he went to put the cheese back in the fridge.

Rather than being a relief though, it just made Billy confused, and when Billy was confused he immediately defaulted to _anger_ , so he leaned forward with intent without touching the pills, and glared at Hopper as he turned around from the fridge.

“You’re not going to ask about it?” Billy said flatly, but the thread of anger in his voice was obvious to the chief.

Hopper raised an eyebrow. “Do you _want_ me to?”

“I _want_ you to stop trying to play at whatever you’re doing here,” Billy sneered. “I don’t need your silent judgment – you don’t know _shit_ about me or my dad.”

“I didn’t say anything about your dad,” Hopper said, unintimidated.

“Fucking _keep_ it that way,” Billy snarled to cover his frustration at himself at his thoughtless comment. “I’ve talked with enough cops to know how this ends – I ain’t telling you _shit_.”

“That’s fine with me,” Hopper answered, still infuriatingly calm. “I just figured I’d offer a place if you needed it.”

Billy curled his lip at him, heart pounding in his ~~uncertainty~~ ~~fear~~ fury and hands trembling. “You don’t _know_ me,” he snapped. “If you did, you’d be just as likely to beat me as my old man, so stop pretending you’re any different, that you give a single goddamn what happens to me.”

“I believe that you’re an asshole, Billy,” Hopper said, undeterred. “But that’s not all you are, and even if it was it is _no_ reason for someone to lay their hand on you.”

Billy laughed, hysterically. “You think Neil hates me because I’m an asshole?!” he laughed again, feeling separate from his body, like he was watching all this happen instead of participating in it. “That might be forgivable if I wasn’t a fucking fag! And nothing is _ever_ going to change!”

It was at that moment that he realized what he said, awareness snapping back into his body like a snapped rubber band. His whole body, a moment ago warm from the anger propelling him forward, went freezing cold in moments, and he shut his mouth with a click, staring at Hopper with wide eyes. The fury had rushed out of him like a bellows, leaving only icy chill and horrible dread in its wake.

He wasn’t with it enough to be able to read the expression on Hopper’s face, but it didn’t matter. He knew how this went. All cops were the same; he’d just effectively signed his death sentence.

“Shit,” Billy breathed, lips numb. “I – I d-didn’t…I’m not…” His brain was whirling too fast, he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t take back the damning words, only able to get out starts and stutters, feeling frozen in his chair.

“Billy,” Hopper started, taking a half step forward, and that was it.

Billy launched himself to his feet, so fast his chair fell to the ground behind him with a clatter. He took a step back, keeping his eyes on Hopper’s hands, and he tripped over the chair, lost his balance and fell to the ground.

He couldn’t see Neil, the table was in the way, but he heard the footsteps coming toward him, and he kicked his foot against the ground, shoving himself toward the wall so that he could have protection at his back. He curled up in a ball, made himself into a smaller target as though that would help, vision going dark at the edges and chest tightening awfully, arms going around his head like it would provide any barrier at all to the blows he knew were coming.

He knew it was just going to piss Neil off more, because he was acting like a pussy rather than taking his punishment like a man, but he was already in for it because Neil had proof now that he was a faggot, and Harry, oh God Harry he hoped he had gotten out of the house okay but he couldn’t do anything because resigning himself to a beating would keep Neil distracted while Harry made his escape and hopefully couldn’t be identified later. He flinched at a hand touching his arm, then his shoulder, tensed even _more_ when the hand pulled away because he knew that a blow was coming but his face was turned away so he didn’t know where to expect it so the nerves all over his body were on fire in awful preparation for the pain.

It was unusual for Neil to wait so long, the thought filtered into his panicked brain. He was a volatile man, not one to hold back in his displeasure, letting it bleed out of him instead with every punch and kick. Neil had broken a rib first, after Harry had left, so he was expecting –

Wait a minute, Billy slowly realized. The beating after Harry had already happened, months ago. They’d moved to Indiana soon after – he wasn’t in California.

Slowly, awareness and memory returned to him. Confusion was still there, as he remembered Hopper, being in Hopper’s cabin, yelling his worst secret at him, and he didn’t know why Hopper hadn’t hurt him yet, either.

Carefully, he raised his head from his knees, eyes only darting about for a moment before he saw Hopper – in front of him, but not within reach. He was sitting on the ground, hands on his knees, and his lips were moving but Billy couldn’t hear anything over the rushing in his ears. Billy tried to calm his breathing, to loosen the painful tightness in his chest that made it feel like he was fucking _dying_ , tried to focus on Hopper’s words.

After several long, excruciating minutes, his heart slowed enough for the sound of rushing water to fade, for him to understand the words Hopper was saying.

Then he frowned a little, confused, and said in a raspy voice, “Are you reciting _Where the Wild Things Are_?” He realized suddenly that his face was wet, but he didn’t wipe it away, not wanting to draw any more attention to the fact, though he was certain that Hopper knew anyway.

Hopper looked relieved that Billy was aware again, and stopped his recitation. “It’s one of my daughter’s favorites.” Billy remembered El reading books that were more advanced than that, but he didn’t argue. “El gets panic attacks too sometimes. She usually wants to be held, though – she was left alone when she would panic at the lab, so hugging is a reminder that she’s not there.”

Billy grunted, both of them pausing for a moment to think darkly on what they’d like to do to all the people responsible for El’s pain – or at least that’s what Billy was thinking.

“It’s okay that you’re gay, Billy,” Hopper finally said, and Billy’s eyes snapped back to him, not trusting the words, needing to take in the expression to look for any lie. He couldn’t see any, but he was just coming down from a panic attack, so. He couldn’t really trust his observations at the moment.

It _did_ serve to his benefit though that Hopper had backed off, had made an effort to calm him down from his panic attack rather than striking out regardless of Billy’s panicked reaction, so maybe he didn’t have anything to fear from Hopper, after all.

“I know it’s gotta suck being gay in a town like this,” Hopper continued, “But I _promise_ you, I am on your side. You’re still the annoying little shit who randomly kidnaps El for the day without warning me. I’m not going to treat you any different because of this – the shit you do in the bedroom is your own business. You got that?”

“Yes, Sir,” Billy responded automatically to the familiar words, despite the confusion still swirling in him at all the _other_ words he’d spouted off.

Hopper frowned a little at that, though. “Just Jim is fine,” he corrected. “Or Chief.”

Billy didn’t know what to say to that, so he just nodded agreeably. Then, “You don’t think I’m just...acting out? Pretending to be gay to piss off my old man?”

Hopper’s frown deepened even further. “Why the hell would you _fake_ being gay when most people would hate you for it?” He said, unknowingly echoing the sentiments from Billy and Will’s conversation several weeks previous. “There are better ways to piss off a parent. You don’t _choose_ to be gay, just like you don’t choose to be straight - you’re born that way.”

Billy didn't say anything to that, because there was really nothing he could think of that made any sort of sense. _None_ of this made sense – that Hopper would be so accepting, that he would care enough to tell him so. The best he _might_ have hoped for would be that the man would turn a blind eye to it, pretend that it hadn’t happened like he knew so many people in California did, like if you didn’t talk about it that homosexuals didn’t exist. The fact that Hopper was accepting it as a part of him, rather than the whole of him, that he wasn’t telling Billy that he needed to stay away from his daughter, that he wasn’t making some sort of threat about keeping the kids safe – just, _all_ of it threw him for a loop. It reminded him of Max, of her reaction to finding out.

“It looks like you aggravated your wrist more,” Hopper told him, nodding toward the appendage in question. Like the comment had reminded his brain of its existence, Billy immediately felt the throbbing pain in his wrist that protested the violent movements of the past few minutes, and he winced, cradling it in his other hand.

“C’mon,” Hopper said, climbing to his feet with some difficulty. “I wasn’t kidding about wrapping it.”

So Billy sat in the chair that had been moved upright again, and let Hopper check over him. He felt almost fragile, not wanting to fight against what seemed to be genuine _care_ for him, so he just sat there and let Hopper do what he wanted. He sat there while Hopper wrapped the bandage around his wrist in briskly efficient but still careful movements, while Hopper swiped bruise cream over his cheek to keep the swelling down and closed the reopened cut with a butterfly bandage. He obediently swallowed the Ibuprofen that had started all of this, along with a full glass of water.

And as Hopper bandaged him up, working to heal the outside, visible wounds, Billy felt something…unclench, in his chest, some of the pain and anger he always carried with him like a friend shrinking, becoming less all-consuming.

It almost felt like Hopper was healing the inside wounds, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Whew, I was really not expecting that to be so painful or so soft there at the end. I was going to put the New Year's Eve party in this installment, but then this felt like a good place to end it despite it being a bit shorter than usual and here we are. I go where my muse directs. ;)
> 
> I hope you liked it - please let me know your thoughts!


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